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Wednesday, February 24, 2016

The prompt this week was to open the book we are currently
reading, and begin our story with the first sentence of the fifth paragraph on
Page 40. The fifth paragraph on Page 40 of my book only contained one sentence,
and it is highlighted. The book it’s from is called Brimstone, and it was
written by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. I’ve read many of their books,
and have enjoyed them all.

Paid in Full

“Have we met?” I
said, as I sat down next to her. There were few empty seats in this car, which
hopefully made my approach less suspicious.

I hated riding trains, but the time had come for me to
confront her. I doubted she would recognize me since I was just a kid when her
trial was held, but I had to know for sure. She glanced over at me with rheumy
eyes. I had been shadowing her, but until now, hadn’t been physically close
enough to make contact. Her appearance placed her decades beyond her actual age
of 31.

“No…I don’t think so…I don’t know.” Her voice was raspy and
her breath reeked of alcohol. Her confusion was evident. I had effectively set
the wheels in motion.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.
It’s only that you look like someone I had met years ago. Apparently, I was
mistaken.”

She released the tight grip on her handbag. That’s it.
Relax. That way, you’ll never see it coming.

“It certainly is a nice day, isn’t it? I mean, for a long
walk. It’s not possible to walk all the way downtown, of course, but a pleasant
day to window shop, wouldn’t you agree?” I needed to keep the conversation
moving along.

“Yes, I suppose so.” Her response was barely above a
whisper.

She was obviously very uncomfortable with every day
chit-chat. Get used to it, lady. This conversation’s going to get a lot darker.

“I knew someone years ago who loved to go for long walks,
especially in the downtown area. It was great for her because it was safe to
cross the streets because of all the traffic lights. She lived outside the city
where there were no traffic lights at all. It wasn’t safe to walk there along
the side of the road. People always drove at high speeds down those roads since
they knew there were no traffic lights, but in the downtown area, there are
traffic lights every block or so. Don’t you agree that traffic lights make it
much safer to cross the streets?”

Her hands began to tremble. I attributed that to two
possible causes. One would be her inescapable need for a drink and the other
would be my constant mention of traffic lights. I prayed it was the latter.

“Yes, that’s true,” she said quietly. “It’s better with the
lights.”

“Should be, in theory,” I continued, primed and ready to
strike. “It isn’t always however, since just because a traffic light turns red,
that’s no guarantee all drivers will stop. There are those who don’t even slow
down. I’m sure you’ve seen those kinds, haven’t you? They’re not all bad
though. I mean, some are folks who work all night and are on their way home,
and they nod off behind the wheel briefly and fail to stop. That’s sad enough
for all concerned. But then, there are the other kind – the ones that are lower
than low. I’m talking about those who go out and party all night and drink
themselves stiff and come up on a red light and see it as a challenge. They
floor it and blow through the light and if they hear a thump as they go through
the intersection, they don’t stop. Why bother. I mean, they’ve got another
party to get to. You know the type of person I’m referring to, don’t you?”

Her eyes filled with tears and her hands shook so strongly,
she knocked her handbag to the floor. I heard a thud when it landed. There’s a
flask full of hooch in there. I’ll bet my condo and my baseball card collection
on it, and I’d win hands down.

“Let me get that for you ma’am.” I’m such a thoughtful
bastard.

As soon as I handed her the purse, she pulled out a flask,
took a quick look around for the conductor, and took a nice big gulp.

“I’m ill,” she said. “I don’t do this all the time, you see.
You won’t tell on me, will you?”

If only someone had the guts to do just that ten years ago,
bitch, you’d be behind bars right now.

“Of course not,” I smiled.

Drink up. The yellow tinge around your eyes and fingertips
isn’t quite dark enough. Your liver must be having quite the picnic. I just
figured out why she takes this train downtown every Wednesday. She gets off at
the downtown terminal, walks five blocks to the Medical Plaza, and takes the
elevator to the 5th floor. I never followed her beyond the lobby,
but I know that entire floor belong to a clinic whose physicians treat patients
with hepatitis and those needing liver transplants. I thought she went to have lunch
with a friend who works there, but apparently she’s one of their patients, and
hopefully, is on a downhill slide.

“Speaking of those who drink and drive, ma’am, you know what
happened to that friend of mine, the one who loved long walks? She was taking
one of those, browsing the shops, and she crossed one of the streets downtown.
It was at a light, of course; she always crossed at one of those, and the light
was red for oncoming traffic. Wouldn’t you know, one of those all night
partiers ran her down, right there in the middle of the crosswalk? My friend
bounced off the car and flew 25 feet onto the sidewalk on the other side of the
street. She was dead on impact.

“The driver, who was a woman, by the way, did pull over
briefly, then drove away. She never got out of the car or called the police or
an ambulance. She just drove away. I heard there were witnesses who did report
the accident and the woman ended up being arrested, but her daddy had lots of
money. She pled not guilty due to some kind of extenuating circumstances. The
witnesses’ memories had faded, and some shrink testified about childhood
trauma. It was probably being passed around from nanny to nanny. Whatever, it
was all bullshit. Anyhow, the jury found her not guilty and she walked away
without even a slap on the wrist. Can you believe that?”

I’ll bet you can believe it, Miss ‘my-daddy-can-get-me-out-of-anything’.
In case you’ve forgotten, that girl you murdered that day with your car was my
older sister, Becky. Do you remember how it sounded when your car struck her?
Did you see her broken body bounce off your car and fly across the street and
land in a bloody heap?

I was in court and saw the pictures of your handiwork on her
body when the Prosecutor held them up. Your Mommy and Daddy were right by your
side in the courtroom. Lucky you. I only had my Daddy back then. My Mommy
killed herself after Becky’s funeral. She couldn’t bear the pain. Now, my Father’s
dead and buried too. Drank himself to death after the verdict. You didn’t just
kill Becky, you see. You killed my whole family.

“That’s very bad…I mean, very sad. It’s bad too.” Her voice
trembled. “Sometimes though, people can’t always do the right thing, even if
they want to.”

What garbage are you trying to hand out now?

“I’m not sure I understand.” This, I’ve got to hear.

“I only meant, if a bad thing happens, and a person wants to
try to fix it, but doesn’t know how, she gets scared. She hopes her family will
help make things right. But, her family doesn’t want things made right; they
want the bad thing to go away. They have doctors give her pills and tell her
she’d better not…I mean, a person’s family won’t let her...and then they send
her away and she…”

She started coughing so hard, I thought she’d pass out. She
pulled a handkerchief from her handbag and spit into it. The blood soaked through
onto her hand and began to run down her arm. I pulled mine from my pocket and
handed it to her. She nodded and blotted her arm and her lips. She put both
handkerchiefs in her handbag and pulled out her flask. Her hands were shaking
so badly now, she couldn’t open it, so I opened it for her. This time, she didn’t
sip; she took a long drink.

I took a close look at this woman who had killed my sister and
who I’d thought never paid for it. But even now, ten years later, I could see
she still remembered what she had done. I could also see that she was dying.
Shouldn’t her vivid memories of a life she’d taken and her own imminent death
be payment enough?

Becky, I promised I wouldn’t rest until I made her pay for
what she did to you. I believe it’s time for us all to rest. She has paid, my beloved sister. In full.

Thursday, February 18, 2016

The prompt this week was to write a story that takes place
on Valentine’s Day. We also had to include the following words: Love, Candy,
Forever, Secret, and Surprise. Please enjoy my story about a lady who is taking
no chances with her love life by following her mother’s advice to the letter. After
all, Mom knows best.

Happy Valentine’s Day

That blasted phone, she thought. I still have a few things to
do to get ready.

“Hello. Not to be rude, but if you’re selling something, I’m
very busy right now. It is a holiday, after all.”

“Hi, sweetie. It’s Mom. I just called to wish my dear
daughter Happy Valentine’s Day, and to thank you for the candy you sent. You
always pick out my favorite kind of chocolates.”

“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. Happy Valentine’s Day to you too. It’s
just that today is such a special day and I’m trying to get everything ready
for my future husband, and I keep getting these nonsense calls.”

“Cara, I’m so happy to hear that everything has worked
itself out for you and that nice boy. What was his name – Ronnie?”

“Yes, Mom. All is perfect between us now.”

“I told you there’s always a way to sort out problems when
they come up in a relationship. It was just wrong when that young man of yours
decided to pick that other girl – that Janie. She was definitely not the one
for him, only he couldn’t see it. It’s just like when your sister’s young man
believed he would be happier with some other girl. I told her the same thing I
told you. It’s up to you to take matters into your own hands to show the man
you love that you are the one.

“It was the same way with your father. He was almost lured
away from me by this little hussy who used to live on the other side of town,
but I wouldn’t stand for it. I invited him over for a cocktail and a talk, and
we’ve been together ever since. I have never heard an unkind word from your father
in our 40 years together. Now, that’s the way a marriage should be. I feel like
a princess every day who is married to her prince, and I know we will be happy
forever and ever.”

‘Mom, it’s so wonderful to hear you talk that way, even
after being married so long. I only hope Ronnie and I will be half as happy as
you and Daddy have been.”

“You will, dear. Look at your sister. She and David have
been married for almost ten years now and not one problem between them. She had
a few issues in the beginning keeping up with proper maintenance, but once she
got into a routine, she found out how little upkeep her husband required.”

“I’m not concerned about any of that, Mom. I watched you
care for Daddy. Like you said, once you do things the same way day in and day
out, caring for your man takes no time at all and you will have tons of free
time.”

“That’s the truth, Cara. I get everything done first thing
and then I have the rest of the day to run my errands, shop, and attend my
committee meetings. I know your father won’t need anything else until evening
time, so I’m good to go all day.”

“Mom, I hate to let you go, but Ronnie’s starting to come
around. Uncle Jimmy is coming by at 7 to marry us. Ronnie should be fully awake
by then. I wish you didn’t live so far away so you could be here, but I know
you can’t leave Daddy for very long.”

“I wish I could be there too, but know that I love you,
Cara, and I wish you and Ronnie all the happiness in the world. Call me
tomorrow and let me know how the wedding went. Make sure you send me pictures
of the two of you. Love you. Bye.”

“Bye, Mom. Love you too.”

* * * * *

What is going on? My head feels like it’s in a vise. Where
am I? Oh yeah. I remember now. That girl I took out last week on a dare – Cara.
My friends were right. She is one weird chick – dressed all in black, her book
of spells, the charm on her necklace filled with blue powder, among other
things. Five minutes after I picked her up, she’ on me like a leech, and
planning our wedding. I didn’t tell her I took her out to win a bet. I didn’t
want to be mean. I did tell her when I dropped her off though, that I wouldn’t
be calling her again because we weren’t right for each other

Then, she calls me up on Valentine’s Day and asks me to come
by for a cocktail and a talk. I remember coming here and telling her I didn’t
have much time because I was spending Valentine’s Day with my love, Janie. I
didn’t care if I was mean or not because when I walked in her house, she threw
herself on me. The smell of incense almost knocked me over. Maybe that’s what’s
wrong. That crap probably gave me a stroke or something. Why can’t I feel my
face?

“I see you’re awake, darling, I should tell you, it will be
less painful if you don’t struggle against the straps. Besides, you wouldn’t
want to pull the IV out, would you?”

IV? Oh my God. I’m strapped onto a table with a bottle hanging
from a pole next to the table dripping yellowish liquid into a long tube
attached to a needle stuck in my arm. Why can’t I say anything? What the…

“Now, don’t panic, my dear. The more you fight the bindings,
the tighter they will become. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. And don’t try
to open your mouth. You need to let those stitches heal. Mother showed me how
to sew the lips together. You’ll still be able to make sounds – you just won’t
be able to say any words. Isn’t that perfection, darling? That way, you’ll
never say anything mean to me out of anger. Words said can’t be taken back, you
know.

“You’re going to be fine because I will take care of you
every day just like my Mom takes care of my Dad and my sister takes care of her
husband. The catheter won’t bother you after a few days and the IV will provide
you with all the nourishment you’ll need. My parents have been married now for
40 years and Dad’s still all right. He’s a bit thinner, but Mom rotates him now
and then so his skin is still holding up really well.

“I have a wonderful surprise for you, sweetheart. My Uncle
Jimmy is licensed by the state and he will be here after dinner to marry us.
Won’t that be terrific? All you have to do is nod for your part of the vows. I
don’t want you to worry about your date with that Janie woman. I’ll tell you a little
secret, honey. She won’t be worried about it either. It will be quite some time
before anyone finds her remains. I didn’t want her to suffer with a broken
heart when she found out you married me.”

Oh no. Why is this happening to me? I’m sorry if what I said
hurt you. But, I can’t tell you I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t tell you anything.
Or yell. Or scream. Or…

“I’m going to finish getting ready for our wedding and
celebration this evening, my dear. I’m putting fresh flowers on the table for
our dinner tonight. You are already having yours, but I’m going to have roast
beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, and I baked a heart-shaped chocolate
cake for dessert. It has vanilla frosting and both our names are written on it
with icing. It says ‘Ronnie and Cara Forever’.

“There’s the oven timer. Dinner’s done. I’ll be back once I
fix my plate so you can smell how good everything is. I love you more than
anything else in the whole wide world, and it is so romantic that every year,
this holiday will also be our anniversary. Darling, Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Thursday, February 11, 2016

The prompt this week was to write a story that takes place
in a courtroom. Silence really can be golden…

Till Death Do Us Part

“Mr. Cooper,” Judge Fitzgerald began. “You understand no one
can force you to take the stand in your own defense. I will instruct the jury
that if you choose not to testify, they are not to take that as a sign of
guilt.”

“I understand, Your Honor, but I need to tell my side.
Please.”

No way was I going to place my life in the hands of that
klutz of a defense attorney that was assigned to me. This was his first capital
case and his hands shook 24/7. If anyone was going to get me acquitted, it was
me.

“Very well,” the Judge said. “Take the stand. Remember also,
once you are finished with your statement, you are subject to cross examination
by the Prosecutor, if he so chooses.”

I was sworn in, and my attorney asked me to explain what I
had done and why. I began with the ‘why’.

“A few days after that couple, the Hamiltons, moved in next
door to us, I noticed them skulking around my house in the dead of night,
looking in the windows. I never mentioned it to my wife because I didn’t want
to frighten her. I started doing some sneaking around myself to see what they
were up to. One night, they were on their patio finishing a meal, and I hid in
some bushes and overhead them. They were talking about getting rid of my wife
and me because they hated our kind, and said how we didn’t deserve to live
among decent folks.

“I was horrified. I knew I had to do something to protect my
wife and myself, so I decided to strike first. I know that was taking the law
into my own hands, but who would believe me if I told them what I overheard?
Besides, after I stabbed them, I left my weapons right there with my prints all
over them. If I felt I was doing something wrong, would I have done that? I
notified the police of what I had done and turned myself in and explained why I
did it. I couldn’t believe they still arrested me and that it’s come so far as
having a trial.

“I’m being threatened with execution for defending my own
life and that of my wife’s. While there was no so-called imminent threat – I mean,
I know they were asleep when I stabbed them, I was walking around 24 hours a
day with the threat of being murdered hanging over me. I had to do something,
and I had to do it when I stood the best chance for survival. I couldn’t wait
until they came at us. They were in much better shape than I, and my wife would
never have been able to defend herself against them.

“Please understand. I’m so sorry it had to come to that, but
I couldn’t just let them come into my home and tear our throats out. That’s
what they were saying they planned to do, you know. Tear our throats out.”

I let the tears fall freely down my cheeks. I had practiced
that daily to perfection. When my wife had told me what she overheard, I knew I
had to take a proactive approach, but not involve her in any way. I sighed
deeply, stood up and prepared to leave the stand when my wife, who was in the
Visitors’ Gallery, jumped to her feet.

“Wait,” she gasped. “This is not right. I can’t go on like
this.”

I never should have convinced her to come to Court to show
her support. She has always been so emotional and unable to withstand any kind
of stress. The Judge banged his gavel.

“I will not have anyone disrupting my courtroom. Bailiff,
remove this woman.”

My poor Emily. This will all be over soon, my darling. Please
be gentle with her.

“Your Honor, I am Mrs. Cooper, the Defendant’s wife. You
must let me speak because I can’t live with this on my conscience any longer.
You must understand that I had nothing to do with killing the Hamilton’s, but I
know the truth about what happened. I’m sorry, my dear husband, but these lies
cannot continue. It was not self-defense. He murdered them in cold blood.”

What?

“Your Honor,” I had to put a stop to this insanity. “My wife
is not well, and hasn’t been for some time. It’s the shock of both our lives
having been in danger, all the confusion surrounding discovery of the bodies,
this trial…”

“Silence!” The Judge shouted, and banged his gavel again. “In
light of this lady’s statements, I do believe the Court needs to hear what she has
to say. Please ma’am, come to the witness stand and clarify your allegations.”

The Bailiff came back up front, pulled me to my feet,
dragged me back to the Defendant’s table and handcuffed me to it. He then
escorted my wife to the stand. Emily was sworn in, and the Judge asked her to
explain what she meant.

“Your Honor, that lovely couple wasn’t planning to kill him
or me. He made that up to justify what he did to them. He had been planning to
murder them ever since the day they moved in next door to us.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Where was this coming
from?

“We went to meet them on their first evening in the
neighborhood and brought them a bottle of wine to have with their dinner. They
were very pleasant and appreciated being welcomed to the community. We stayed
and chatted awhile, but they informed us they had plans to go out for a late
supper. We bid them good night and returned home.

“As soon as we were in the door, Jack began to complain
about them. He told me there was no way he was going to live next door to their
kind. I reminded him that all were welcome in our community, and that it was
wrong to pass judgment on others, especially since we had only just met them. The
development where we made our home was a place where any, and all, could reside
safe from harassment and from harm. That is why our new neighbors chose that
location, and was why we had decided to live there as well.

“I told him his fears were totally irrational, but he
continued to speak ill of both of them. On that terrible morning, when I awoke,
my husband was just coming back home and he was covered in blood. He told me
that he had experienced enough sleepless nights watching and waiting, and
decided to end the threat once and for all. He had gone next door, crept into
where they were both sleeping and driven a stake through each of their hearts.

“Vamps were garbage, he had said, soulless killers. He could
not believe they would live next door to us for much longer before they snuck
in during the night to kill us both, as their kind had done for centuries. I
tried over and over to make him understand that our being werewolves did not necessarily
pit them against us.”

She knows I’ve never had anything against vamps, generally
speaking. Why is she trying to get me executed?

“While it’s true that vamps and werewolves have been known
to scuffle, we were not natural enemies, especially within a community that
housed creatures of all types. Zombies lived across the street from us, our
back yard neighbors were ghouls and next door on the other side was a family of
shapeshifters. Frankly, the vamps were the least objectionable of the lot. I
reminded my husband of the bylaws that stated residents were not permitted to
hunt, kill, or feed upon any other residents. Violation of any of the rules
would result in eviction.

“Your Honor, nothing I said could change his mind. He was
determined not to have their kind so close, and instead of us relocating, he
murdered them. I can’t go on protecting you, Jack. What you did was wrong and
cruel and you need to be held accountable for your actions.”

The jury, definitely not of MY peers, comprised of three
Wendigos, some nasty looking witches, assorted fairies and demons, and a couple
of vamps, found me guilty as charged, and my execution date was set. As they
led me out of the Courtroom, my wife threw her arms around me and whispered in
my ear.

“That handsome young human who works at the filling station
in town will be moving in with me tomorrow morning. He has no idea exactly what
I am, but I’ll tell him eventually.”

There’s supposed to be a full moon tomorrow night. Emily
never did pay attention to the forecasts. I sure hope he’s a runner…

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

The prompt this week was about moving in to the home of our
dreams that’s located in a picture-perfect neighborhood. The catch is, we have
a nosy neighbor. Well, here’s my side of the story. I learned the hard way that
appearances can be deceiving.

All That Glitters…

Whoever said that if something looks too good to be true,
then it probably isn’t. Maybe I don’t have all the words right, but you get the
idea. When I bought this house, it wasn’t just the house I was buying – it was
the neighborhood and especially, the neighbors. On the corner of my new street
is a lovely two-story home with a well-kept yard. Its occupant is a 74 year old
widow who wanders the subdivision chatting to herself. She bothers no one
though, and after a couple of trips around the block, goes back into her house.
On the other side of me is another charming dwelling, with a large vegetable
garden in the back. That house’s resident is a 72 year old widow who still
drives herself to and from town, tends her garden and maintains her own
grounds. The lady also runs a Bed and Breakfast to bring in some extra cash to
supplement her Social Security.

How do I know all this? I do my research. I need to know who
might come knocking on my door in the dead of night should the neighborhood’s power
cut out in a storm. I’m living between two elderly ladies who are capable of
taking care of themselves, so my days should be uneventful and my nights calm
and restful. Right? Remember what I said about something looking too good to be
true? Well, I’m living proof that that’s a fact.

From the minute I moved in, the 72 year old, a Mrs. Delaney,
watched me like a hawk. She opens her curtains wide and there she stands, binoculars
fixed on my property. If she was out weeding or picking veggies, every so
often, she’d raise her binoculars and train them in my direction. She watched
me leave, she watched me come home, she watched me mow my lawn, and she watched
me get my mail. I felt like the headliner in one of those reality shows, only I
wasn’t getting a dime for my trouble. I had blinds installed on all my windows
and heavy curtains over them and kept them shut 24 hours a day, but it didn’t
help my nerves. I knew she was standing there at her window, binoculars up,
watching and waiting. But, for what?

At first, I figured perhaps I resembled a grown son who had
moved away or maybe I even looked like her dead husband when they had first met
and fallen in love. While that’s all very sweet and sentimental, she still
creeped the Hell out of me. I want to point out that I’m no kidnapper or Satan
worshipper. I have no skeletons in my closet, real or rhetorical. I’m a copy
editor, who used to live in the city and worked for one of the biggest
newspapers in the state. Even though I’m nowhere near retirement age, I got
tired of all the rushing and the rudeness of big city life. I sold my condo,
bought a house in this quiet little town, and got a job with the local press.
My savings, investments, and IRAs helped to supplement my salary and I was
looking forward to noise- and crime-free living.

Well, my house is perfect, the area is beautiful, and several
ladies from town brought me casseroles and pies on the day I moved in, so my
dream for a peaceful way of life came true, except for one thing. In addition
to all the above, I also have my own personal stalker. Yep. Mrs. Delaney was
not just a peeper. When I turn around in the grocery, there she is at the end
of the aisle. Sitting at a table in the park to have my lunch, she’s three
tables away having hers. Watching. Always watching. I decided something had to
be done, and soon. Today.

Last night, I noticed a man checked in to her Bed and
Breakfast. I slept in this morning to give him time to have his morning meal,
call a taxi and continue on. By noon, Mrs. Delaney should be alone and ready
for me to burst in and confront her. I was determined to find out why she was
so obsessed with me and more to the point, what were her intentions? Was I to
be invited over for coffee and cake that was drugged with sedatives to render
me helpless so she could carve me up add my feet to her stew pot along with her
homegrown carrots and onions? Okay. Maybe not that, but still. There was
something she wanted from me or to do to me and I had to find out the truth. I
felt like an animal caught in a trap, but this creature was not going down
without a fight.

I snuck around the back, thinking I would climb in one of
her basement windows, sneak up the stairs and startle the daylights out of her
while she sat in her kitchen. When taking on the enemy, best to do it by
surprise – you know, so you have the upper hand and all that. But, when I knelt
down and looked through the window, her basement light was on and it appeared
as if she was dragging a body down the stairs. What the…? I went around the front
and tried her front door. It was unlocked and I let myself in. I made my way to
the door to the basement and called down to her.

“Mrs. Delaney, it’s me, Robert. Robert Janson, from next
door. Is everything all right? Do you need some help?”

Her response startled the daylights out of me.

“Yes, hon, could you give me a hand? I need to get Mr.
Horace into the acid before he starts to smell. He’s been dead since early
morning and he’s beginning to ripen. Grab hold of his feet and help me get him
down the stairs, will you?”

For 72, this lady had some muscles on her.

So. It was Mr. Horace’s feet that were going to end up in
her… Did she say acid? Oh God. I grabbed the man’s feet and helped her carry
him down the stairs. When I saw his face, I recognized him as last night’s Bed
and Breakfast guest.

“What happened to him? Did he have a heart attack?”

“Oh, no, hon. It was the poison in his cocoa. A couple sips
and he was gone. I cleaned out his wallet and now I need to get him out of my
way. I’ve got a lady coming to stay this evening. Help me get him to the cellar
door. I’ve got a vat down there filled with acid and that’s where I put them.
It never ceases to amaze me how quickly they disappear in there.”

“Who ‘they’?” I had to know.

“Why, my guests, hon.” Her tone was calm and even like she
was forecasting a clear and sunny day on the Channel 13 news.

“Mr. Delaney didn’t leave much insurance, so I have my
guests come and stay the night. If I have enough to cover my bills for the
month, I just let them go on their way. If I’m short, I mix some poison in
their morning cocoa and take their cash and Traveler’s Checks. No one comes
looking for them and even if they did, no one’s going to look in an old lady’s
cellar, are they?”

Is this what she planned for me too?

“Is that why you watch me and follow me around? Are you planning
to stash me in your cellar vat too?”

When she smiled, a cold chill ran down my spine.

“Hon, this is a small town. We’re bound to run into each
other here and there. Besides, I wasn’t watching you. I was watching Lydia, the
lady who lives on the corner. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be and that’s
why I use my binoculars. I know she steals tomatoes from my garden and I’m
determined to catch her. That’s why I watch her day and night. Could you keep
an eye out too and let me know if you see her in my garden? She wanders around
at all hours and if I’m asleep and you see her taking some from my garden, will
you call me and let me know? When I catch her, I am going to give her what for.”

I’ll just bet you will, lady.

“Um, sure.” I didn’t know where to go from there. After all,
I’d just helped her dump a body into a vat of acid.

“I guess I’ll be going now, unless you need help with
something else.”

“No, hon. I’m fine now. Enjoy your Saturday.

“Yes, ma’am. You too.”

My house in Little-Old-Lady-Land goes on the market first
thing Monday morning. This small town peaceful life is way overrated.

About Me

I am a writer, who has had two crime fiction novels, a six-part children's fantasy series. and a poetry collection published by DiskUsPublishing, stories published in various anthologies, as well as flash pieces on various ezines. My current projects include two crime fiction novels.

obit.: Pure Slush, Vol. 6

gorge: Pure Slush, Vol. 4

Notausgang: Emergency Exit, Pure Slush, Vol. 2

The Lost Children Charity Anthology

Inside (currently out of print; seeking new publisher)

An up close and personal look at that crazy carnival ride we call life -- with all its sunlight and shadows. A Poetry Collection

My Crime Thriller (currently out of print; seeking new publisher)

A timid and naive man, dominated personally and professionally by his wife and father-in-law, who is desperate for a friend and confidante of his own, unwittingly allows himself to be drawn into a deadly game of chance by a cunning predator

My Crime Thriller (currently out of print; seeking new publisher)

It's always nice to have a new neighbor settle in - one who is hard-working and proficient at his craft. That is, unless he's a serial killer...

The Favor (Noir Short)

Finders Keepers (Noir Short)

Byline (Crime Fiction Short)

A Gentleman Caller (Crime Short)

My Goodreads

Florida. The sunshine state. A land of oranges, theme parks, and hundreds of miles of beaches. In this land of endless summers and crystal blue water, people are dying in ways the likes of which the local police have never seen. Each dea...

This is a book that anyone and everyone who enjoys a wild ride must read. The characters are beyond unique, the primary setting is beyond imagination and the story? Whoa! This story will snatch you up right from the start and then tw...

This was the first book by this author that I've read, but I intend to look for others. I signed up for his newsletter so I can be notified of new releases.
This story was very dark and super creepy. The characters were presented so c...

Hardly Thrillers
If you are looking for a collection of thrillers, I would recommend looking elsewhere. There are a couple of stories that are very good and are quite disturbing, which I feel thrillers should be. But the majority of t...